


Humiliation Sheets

by drowninginchamomiletea



Series: Me gay bmc bois [16]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Go easy on me guys I have a delicate greyce heart, M/M, Not Shippy, Oof I guess I do requests now, This is so one-sidedly romantic and two-sidedly platonic it kind of hurt to write, dual perspective, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninginchamomiletea/pseuds/drowninginchamomiletea
Summary: Michael finds out that Jeremy is sad. Hurt/comfort ensues.





	Humiliation Sheets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bemorechill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bemorechill/gifts).



“Jeremy.”

I freeze. This is _not_ a tone I have ever heard in Michael's voice before; it's stern, firm, like a teacher calling you out for slinking into the classroom two minutes after the bell. It must be serious if even Michael hasn't found a way to make it funny.

I turn my head a few inches to sneak a look at him out of the corner of my eye. He's adjusting his glasses and frowning down at the piece of paper in his hands.

It's not like I can just run away, because this is Michael. He'll see me again tomorrow anyways. So I slowly turn around, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Y-yeah...?” _Curse_ my stutter.

“Jeremy, what...” His voice suddenly gains a note of anger. “What the _hell_ is this?”

“Wh—”

He shows me the piece of paper and I'm pretty sure I can feel my lungs freeze solid. It’s a Humiliation Sheet. It has a few tallies on it, and is dated today. My hands fly to my pocket, only to find that the folded-up piece of paper is not where I left it.

My mouth is moving on its own.

“I-I-I-I mean, it's-it's just, y'know, it, ah, l-like—”

I cut myself off with a hand over my mouth. The damage has already been done, however, as Michael has gone into Worried Michael Mode and tentatively rested a hand on my shoulder. Soon enough, the other hand is lifting up my chin so I'm looking right into the concerned frown. Great. Now I'm not getting out of this, no matter what.

“You okay, man?”

Ugh. Better to just be honest, I guess.

“K— Sorta?” It's so hard to _think_ when you're in that close of proximity to another person. “C-could you b-back off a bit?”

Michael quickly steps back, giving me space to be anxious and get over myself. I instinctively hunch my shoulders as I attempt to stave off panic. Michael mumbles something.

“Sorry, I...” He trails off, and I feel terrible for making him think my stupid brain problems are somehow his fault. After an awkward instant of silence, I blurt out an apology.

“N-no! It— You d-didn't do anything, I'm j-just— It's me. It-it’s me that's... Weird.” _Oh, frick, frick, I didn't mean to... Say it like that... Now he's gonna get even more upset..._

On the contrary, Michael falls silent, which is actually even more terrifying because I don't know what he's thinking. My shoulders are still hunched and my face is still hidden, but I can feel myself naturally relaxing with each passing second.

Until Michael’s next words.

“Jeremy... You don’t... Think you _deserve_ all the shit you get, do you?” His voice is so sad, so soft and heartbroken, and his words hit so close to home, that I can't help but break down all the way. My shoulders twitch back up and my posture worsens once more. Michael’s arms wrapping around me are the final straw, and the dam breaks and leaves me sobbing into his sweatshirt.

“Hey, man, don’tchu ever think you deserve anything other than love, mkay? I will personally deal with anyone who says otherwise. You just gotta promise me one thing, Jere.”

_Gimme a second, Michael._

I continue crying even with the familiar circles being traced on my back. I guess I just never expected that someone would figure it out so easily. But, well, this is Michael. He knows me better than anyone.

Eventually, I'm able to meekly respond, still clinging to him like a toddler.

“W-what is it?”

“Promise me you'll tell me whenever the bullies get to you. We're in this together, right? I've got your back, Jere. C'mon, promise me that, hm?”

“I-I...” It hurts to talk. I take a breath and step back. Michael's arms linger on my shoulders, but... He's always been like that. And, well, I guess it's moments like this when I appreciate it. I do kind of feel like an idiot for not talking to him about the crap I deal with on a daily basis, especially when he’s the only one who'll put up with me and even actually listen. “S-sorry...” I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I feel so dumb and childish.

Michael tips my chin up again. He's really determined to make this point. Dangit.

“Jeremy. Promise me. I'm serious. I—” He stops, stepping back again and looking away, hands on his headphones. “...I don’t like seeing you cry.”

Frick. I messed up again. I can feel my eyes burning with more tears. Unable to help myself, I mumble another apology, looking down at the concrete in front of me.

“S-sorry...”

“Hell, I— I’m sorry, Jere, I didn't mean it like—” His arms are immediately back around me again. “I just mean that... I like you a lot, and I don't want you to be this upset.”

“I— I’m... Sorry, I-I—”

“Don’t apologize.”

I cough out another sob.

“W-whad’you want me t-to say? I c— What else c-can I say...?”

“Please... Don't say sorry. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Say you'll talk to me when the world’s mean and you feel like you aren't worth it, cause you _are,_  Miah, you’re _always_ worth it.”

“I...” I guess I just... Forgot. That he's there. That he's my best friend. That I can talk to him. I feel myself relax against him, finally letting him just _hug_ me. It feels... Nice. “Okay. I-I promise... I'll t-talk to you when I h-have a c-crappy day or... Or whatever.”

He exhales quietly.

“...thanks. I'm here for you, man.”

“Yeah.”

He's quiet for another few seconds.

“Where are the rest of those papers?”

“At home...”

He steps back and smiles at me.

“C'mon. Let's go burn ‘em. Then we can do some homework. Sound good?”

I feel my face casting the shadow of a smile.

“S-sounds great.”

* * *

Something white flutters down behind Jere as he hurries ahead to his house. It’s a piece of paper.

I don't pick it up with the intention of reading it. Generally, I like to respect people's privacy, and they leave me alone in return. It's a bit... _Different_ with Jere, but the rule is mostly the same. It's just that it's a bit difficult to spend twelve years with someone and not learn anything about them. But we let it happen bit by bit—no confrontations, no interventions, no interrogations.

Anyway.

The paper.

I don't _intend_ to read it, but it came partially unfolded when it fell to the ground, and once I catch sight of the heading, I can't stop myself from unfolding it the rest of the way.

The heading reads _Humiliation Sheet_ , and below it is _Date:_ and a list of grievances with varying numbers of tally marks beside them.

Frowning, I scan over the paper again.

Something suddenly clicks in my head, and before I can stop myself, I've called out in a terrifyingly stern voice.

“Jeremy.”

He freezes as though someone has a gun to the back of his head. Even the light that's always caught in his hair seems to have stopped shifting. He turns his head ever so slightly to the left. I reposition my glasses a bit, frowning down at the paper again. _Jeremy_...

He turns, slowly, and seems determined not to make eye contact.

“Y-yeah...?” There's a terrible waver in his already soft voice. It hurts to hear.

‘What the _hell_ is this, you _idiot?!_ Why— Why don't you _tell_ me this shit is happening!? What the _fuck_ , Jeremy!?! I'm _here_ for you, I'm here for _you!’_ I want to shout, frustrated that he still refuses to open up.

But I don't, because it'll scare him off, which is the last thing I need.

“Jeremy, what...” Suddenly the frustration comes back and I can't stop it from showing its ugly tone in my voice. “What the _hell_ is this?”

“Wh—”

I walk forward and hold out the paper for him to see. His eyes suddenly go wide and his hands frantically search his pockets. His jaw is trembling, and words, or fragments of them, come tumbling out.

“I-I-I-I mean, it's-it's just, y'know, it, ah, l-like—” His hand flies up to clamp over his mouth and he stares at the ground.

_FUCKING HELL! GREAT, MELL. Now you've just scared him!_

I take a breath and reach out a hand to place on his shoulder.

_He's always so cold._

Gently as I can, I hook two fingers under his chin and force him to open up. Wide, scared blue eyes suddenly lock onto mine, and FUCK, now I can barely think straight.

Ha.

_Alright, what would Hetero Bro Michael say?_

“You okay, man?”

_...yeah, that works._

His lower lip trembles for an instant before he replies.

“K— Sorta?” He seems to struggle with his thoughts for a moment before— “C-could you b-back off a bit?”

OH! Right, I— Shit. I scramble backwards a couple of feet.

“Sorry, I...” I trail off. He’s all huddled up in himself, looking at his feet, seemingly in thought.

“N-no!” He suddenly blurts out. “It— You d-didn't do anything, I'm j-just— It's me. It-it’s me that's... Weird. _Oh, frick, frick, I didn't mean to... Say it like that...”_ He whispers the last few words to himself, chewing at his lip and picking ferociously at his fingernails.

I stop to actually think for a second. _So... He keeps track of when and how he gets humiliated. Why? To prove a point? Or... Oh... Oh, Jere..._

I can feel my heart break a little.

“Jeremy... You don’t... Think you _deserve_ all the shit you get, do you?”

The further hunching of his shoulders is all the answer I need to justify a hug. He gives a hiccupy sob as I trace circles on his back.

“Hey, man, don’tchu ever think you deserve anything other than love, mkay? I will personally deal with anyone who says otherwise.” I mean it, too. “You just gotta promise me one thing, Jere.”

It takes a few minutes for him to calm down enough to be coherent, but I can always wait for this kid. He’s still clinging to my sweatshirt, which would be fine, but I’m threatening to melt on the spot. I want more than anything to be able to say, ‘hey, lovely, are you okay?’ and have that make him feel better, but there's no way that's happening with Straight Boy Jeremy Heere. He’s far too cute for his own good; I barely even trust myself around him anymore.

But I digress.

The boy speaks.

“W-what is it?”

“Promise me you'll tell me whenever the bullies get to you. We're in this together, right? I've got your back, Jere. C'mon, promise me that, hm?”

“I-I...” He takes a gulp of air and tries to pull away, but hell if I'm letting him isolate himself so easily. So I keep my arms loosely over his shoulders. “S-sorry...” He sniffs and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, looking small. It hurts so much to see him like this. I nudge a hand under his chin again, so I can see his face properly. It’s not a particularly pretty sight, of course. His eyes are rimmed with red and the eyelashes are all stuck together, his nose is pink, and there's tears everywhere. But you don't look nice when you don't feel nice. So I've got double the motivation to make him cheer up.

“Jeremy. Promise me. I'm serious. I—” I cut myself off, feeling my face heat up slightly. I step off a bit and look away, feeling a little foolish. “...I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“S-sorry,” he mumbles yet again, and I look up in time to spot fresh tears falling from his eyes. _Dammit! Stupid!_

“Hell, I— I’m sorry, Jere, I didn't mean it like—” I hurry forward to hug him again. “I just mean that... I like you a lot, and I don't want you to be this upset.”

“I— I’m... Sorry, I-I—”

“Don’t apologize.” _You haven't done anything wrong._

He chokes on another sob.

“W-whad’you want me t-to say? I c— What else c-can I say...?”

“Please... Don't say sorry. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Say you'll talk to me when the world’s mean and you feel like you aren't worth it, cause you _are_ , Miah, you’re _always_ worth it.”

“I...” At long, _long_ last, he relaxes in my arms. He's quiet for a long moment, then softly says what I’ve been waiting to hear. “Okay. I-I promise... I'll t-talk to you when I h-have a c-crappy day or... Or whatever.”

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

“...thanks. I'm here for you, man.”

“Yeah.”

There's a pause. _Alright... One more thing._

“Where are the rest of those papers?”

“At home...”

I step back and smile at him.

“C'mon. Let's go burn ‘em. Then we can do some homework. Sound good?”

He smiles weakly back.

“S-sounds great.”

**Author's Note:**

> BOY OH BOY I GUESS REQUESTS ARE OFFICIALLY OPEN???? Go talk to me @dictwrites on Twitter!!


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